I guess I have that kinda face. Well I would prefer that to ‘unforgettable cause you were so fucking wild and bizarre and remember that time you peed in a field and it turned out to be a football oval with a wedding reception overlooking it. And they were toasting the bride?’

You can meet me and I will be all BFF and then six months later I will have a vague look on my face like I know I know you but I don’t really know where from, just keep talking and it will come to me but unless you have your name tattooed to your forehead or you start the conversation with ‘Hey Kelley it is me, X!’ I have no hope remembering your name.

Last week after I picked up Too from work experience (she was at the local SDS – Special Development School- and she rocked that shizz, so fucking proud I could BURST) we went to a bakery to get her a celebratory sausage roll. The lady behind the counter was all ‘Kelley! How are you! Is this Moo?’ and Too, being the middle child was all fuck no I am Too you bitch, or grunts to that effect and it turns out that Moo went to Gymbaroo with her son.

For TWO MONTHS, in 1992. SIXTEEN YEARS AGO.

I was all ‘yeah yeah I remember you and your, um, child…’

Duuuude. That is some serious memory she is shaking.

Then last night Moo was all ‘The Boyfriends mum knows you from high school and she said you were an Emo.’

And I was all, fuck. Cause I don’t know The Boyfriends mum and The Boyfriends mum would have to be MPS’s age and she was totally popping out kids when I was in high school and I was only in the area for like 18 months of high school (after my parents ripped me out of the throbbing metropolis of Melbourne JUST AFTER the new Chadstone was built and my posse and I were scoping all the awesome clubs and brought me to the middle of fucking nowhere where COWS woke me up rather than sirens) and not only that she lived in another town and now I am thinking I must have had some sort of fucking reputation that I was totally not aware of.

And I wasn’t no Damn fucking Emo. During the day I was a mild mannered rock chick, but at night I was hitting the clubs with my little black dress and…

OMFG…

Please don’t talk to Moo anymore Mrs The Boyfriends Mum. And just out of curiosity, what year did you get married?

I wish I could hear your voice, IRL, …. because I can almost hear you saying this in conversation over a glass of vin. Hysterical.

And. Moreso. I am glad I moved away from my hometown where my children will not bump into people from my past that will say, “Whoa. I knew your mom. She was the one that….” Heh. Yeah. Living far away is a good thing.

Its scary to look back and see ourselves with older eyes and what first impression we would make.

I would totally look like the try-hard bogan, but with less make-up. Fashion victim. Pleasing everyone but myself. Boyfriend rules. Worried about what everyone would think of me. I pity the fool I was then.

Is there the teeniest weeniest chance it could be your personality that they notice?

I was breathless after this bit…had to remember to draw breath was so inside the words

“And I was all, fuck. Cause I don’t know The Boyfriends mum and The Boyfriends mum would have to be MPS’s age and she was totally popping out kids when I was in high school and I was only in the area for like 18 months of high school (after my parents ripped me out of the throbbing metropolis of Melbourne JUST AFTER the new Chadstone was built and my posse and I were scoping all the awesome clubs and brought me to the middle of fucking nowhere where COWS woke me up rather than sirens) and not only that she lived in another town and now I am thinking I must have had some sort of fucking reputation that I was totally not aware of.”

I’m not so good with names either. I once called my new best friend Shirley for almost 3 months, she didn’t seem to mind, her name is Joan.
Lately, though, I’m even having trouble remembering people I work with. Some of them are casuals so I don’t see them every day, when they finally do a shift that coincides with mine, I have to tell them “I know your face, but I’ve forgotten your name”.

But hey, I was not even interesting enough to be called nerd and beaten up in high school, but I’ve had ppl come up and remember me years later, and I *know* they were the school captain/coolest dude/whatever, but fucked if I can recall *their* name. Go figure.

…I have a different ability – I tend to walk up to complete strangers who look vaguely familiar, saying “Hi X” and they’re all “f-ing crazy woman I don’t know you” BUT then having people I really did know when I was younger get offended because I don’t recognise them. At all. Even though we sat next to each other in Chemistry for a year.

I usually point to my specs and tell the cowering strangers that I have a new prescription which must be wrong, or tell BFF from high school that I never used to wear glasses so I usually only saw them as a smudgy outline anyway …

Holy crap..yep who the hell wants their kids to find out what they got up to! My 17 year old gets up to mischief but he is NOTHING on what I was like at his age..thank god..and that woman had a freakishly amazing memory…I dont even remember all of yesterday 😉

I moved two states away from my HS pals to avoid awkward ‘I remember you from high school’ tales. I can remember a face, but seriously, names ~ never. Without business cards, I’d probably forget my own.

I know what you mean. I don’t have friends for that reason. I can’t remember their name. It’s like, hey, oh yeah, I’m okay, you do’in alright, you’re Betty right? NO I’m Joan. Well Joan, nice to meet ya. I’m thinking, did I ever schtupp her?

Actually I have two friends I’ve had for a long time. I carry their names in my wallet.

Apparently I’m pretty memorable too. I’ve had all sorts of people, who could look familiar but everybody looks familiar, say don’t you remember me from high school…or middle school? Usually I don’t. Hahaha!

Even though my name is Diane, I must look like a ‘Debbie’ because every person I almost ever meet now wants to call me Debbie! I am so NOT a Debbie, never was a Debbie, could not be a Debbie…jeez louise!

Actually, I really do know exactly when I met someone in my past because of what they do call me…Diane was grades Kindergarten – 8th grade; Dina from 9 – 11 and Dee from that point on….I must’ve been some form of Emo back then….I dunno and I LMAO when I do run into people from the past, cause in my own way…I was kewl. (It took years of therapy for me to realize that ;P )

My husband waits for me to get that look, and then he says “AHA! You can’t remember their name, can ya?! Well what is it then?” And then he cackles gleefully. Nerd. He remembers phone numbers, aunt’s dog’s name, birthdays and favorite foods, so WHY should I have to remember anything?

Oh, yeah. I can, (and do), relate. My husband is 52 years old and he is forever seeing some random person and saying “Oh, look! That’s so and so, I haven’t seen him since high school…” Or I think that’s the little sister of somebody I met at camp once. I’m telling you he NEVER forgets a face. I, on the other hand, would have trouble picking my mother out of a line up.

I don’t remember names very well, if at all. And I moved 2000 miles away from my hometown just so I won’t run into all those biatches that were so perfect in high school. Like they were all hooty and tooty anyway. Bitches.

I am the same way with names! I am just TERRIBLE! I have got to work on it because I have known some people for months and see them every week and don’t have a clue on their names. And I’m too embarrassed to ask them their names now that I’ve known them this long!